


you hold me in your arms; a timeless slow dance, a love letter in a touch

by tommyglued



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, i think, its mostly lighthearted jnsknvk, on occasion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 16:05:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19833667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommyglued/pseuds/tommyglued
Summary: For Steve and Tony, life is, when looked from a wider perspective, just a series of slow dances.





	you hold me in your arms; a timeless slow dance, a love letter in a touch

**Author's Note:**

> ok so the concept of this whole fic was inspired by [this beautiful piece of art](https://orientalld.tumblr.com/post/185044563692/remember-that-oldschool-once-upon-a-dream) that made me physically ache with how much love it shows so i couldnt resist writing a fic about it. also at One Point i remembered [this](https://hackedmotionsensors.tumblr.com/post/168464863499/i-love-you-and-i-like-you) and just Had to include tonys excitement bc well,,,,,, I Agree. originally i wanted this to be like more AA centric but since theyre their mcusonas in the art i decided im not a coward and kept the storyline in mcu,,, How It Should Have Been

The first time you dance, it’s soon after a day of fighting a flock of very stubborn aliens. You put the weight of the world on your shoulders when you realize the only way to win is if you risk your life, most likely losing it in the process.

You take one last breath. 

And open your eyes to see Steve sigh in relief, even laugh at your stupid joke.

( You wouldn’t _actually_ mind having been kissed, but he doesn’t need to know that. )

The Avengers move into the tower with you, and you tell yourself not to get your hopes up - experience tells you the idyll won’t last long and soon you won’t even be on speaking terms. But your gut tells you, _this time it won’t be that way. This time, it will work out._

It’s a clear night, and you stand on the roof, covering the sides of your eyes to see the stars. You don’t even notice him until he speaks.

“Dance with me?”

He asks, reluctant but confident, and you're too shocked to answer before he carefully lowers your hands from your eyes and takes them in his own. And, just like that, his hand is on your waist and your hand on his shoulder, both of you swinging slowly to the sound of distant traffic, gentle breeze and static buzz of electronics. 

You notice your breath falling in sync with his.

You notice neon blue cutting his face in bold shadows. He looks ethereal. The way he looks at you… He is several fights bound up in skin, impossible to read. Is he troubled ? Is he regretting this ? You notice the tension in his chest, in his throat. Should you retreat ?

“Don’t go risking your life like that again.”

It’s an order, but it’s also a plea.

“Aye, Captain.”

“I’m serious.”

He stops, and you halt to a stop too. He’s still holding you, but his arm falls lightly around you and his hand is open, your palm sitting on it like a petal. You could easily step back if you wanted to.

You stay right where you are.

“You’ve got a team to back you up… Tony.” You like how he says your name. “We’ll think of something, _together._ You can trust us.”

Somehow, that _we_ sounds a lot like _me_.

A knot sits in your throat like a stone. How long has he been thinking about this ?

“I uh… Thank you.”

Never in your life have you seen eyes as intense as his. He sets his jaw like he’s about to say something else, but only nodds instead, curtly, then walks away, cheeks crimson red. A chill runs down your spine as you stand alone with the stars.

You keep standing like that for a while.

***

The second time you dance, you are in your workshop, swaying to some soft tunes from your childhood, when you notice a familiar figure leaning on the door. He’s got a sketchbook in hand, and closes it, embarrassed, when your eyes land on it.

Heat seeps into your face, then your chest.

“How long have you been there ?”

“Long enough.”

Your fingers itch to leaf through the notebook, now resting by his side. He blushes and turns to leave; panic squeezes your chest as you realize that you want him to stay. Before you do something stupid, you blurt out, “Well join me, Cap. Don’t be shy.”

So much for preventing the stupid.

Already halfway out the door, he stops, lowers his head - as if you can’t see him biting his cheek with that part of his face exposed. You turn around to seem like you weren’t staring and click absentmindedly on the holo screen, not even remotely paying attention to what you’re doing. A soft thud to your left brings you back to reality. His hand slips off the desk where the notebook rests and you wait, frozen, for the space between you to compress with all the seemingly nonchalant touches you’ve exchanged since the last dance, all the glances and hurling yourselves in the wake of danger so the other would stay unharmed - all of it packed in an inch of space you are still afraid to close.

He smiles at you as he takes your hand, and for the first time in your life, you’re thinking about everything and nothing at the same time.

( You continue swaying slowly even as the music changes beat, too busy going insane from the tenderness with which he holds your gaze to notice. )

***

The third time you dance, it’s a post Ultron world, guilt and trauma eating you alive; you are a decaying neutron star trying to contain an implosion. As you rest your head on his chest, easing the tension from your muscles as his heart kisses your cheek over and over again, you think: _I would never be able to do this without you._

You think: _I don't deserve you._

You think,

He's looking up at you, face beaten, bruised, swollen. His eyes hold nothing but accusation and anger, anger at _you._ It's all your fault.

But when you look up, his face is still bruised, but his eyes are soft. It hurts to look at him. All the horrible things you've seen clog your lungs and you open your mouth to tell him - you want him to know, he _has_ to know - but the only words that come out are silent, disguised by tears.

He shakes his head and wipes your cheeks, pulling you even closer, and looks you in the eyes as he says "It's not your fault, Tony, you hear me ? You tried your best. You saved us. Whatever the witch made you see, it's not real."

Always so optimistic. How will you tell him ? He says it because he doesn't know. He doesn't _know_.

He pushes your hair back and plants a kiss on your forehead; you close your eyes, heart beating in your throat, but breathing becoming even. The world may be going to shit, but he's still here.

He moves you in silence like a lullaby, drawing small circles on your shoulder. He cannot silence your mind, but he can give you this.

***

The fourth time you dance, it's his surprise birthday party and everyone is a bit too tipsy, feelings a bit too loosely hanging on your sleeves. He's red in the cheeks, laughing with his head thrown back, a full belly laugh. He buries his head in your shoulder and you laugh along because otherwise you'd just explode.

Does he know ? Does he feel it too ?

You drag him to the dance floor because you're feeling a bit brave and he doesn't object, twirling you and playing with you like you've done this a thousand times before.

What should you lose your mind over first: the fact that he hasn't let go of your hand for even a second, or the proximity in which his lips are to yours, every single scenario in which you get to kiss them popping back into your head ?

( The lights are out, balloons and confetti scattered on the floor, dirty dishes on tables. In the centre of the room, two men stand in an embrace, slowly swinging to their own tune. Their faces light up in blue as their lips meet, a light, unsure graze at first; they discover they love the taste of each other way too much to leave it at that. )

***

The fifth time you dance, you've got him by the back of his neck and he's got a hand in your hair, your foreheads pressed together, his tears falling down your cheeks.

You've done bad things, terrible things to each other. You've lied, kept secrets, fought. For heaven's sake, even almost killed each other. But your love endured, despite it all. You couldn’t hate him even if you wanted to. And when you needed each other the most, you found a common tongue. Now the universe needs you, and you can't do it alone, you never had to. He promised you this a lifetime ago under the stars when he barely knew you. When you heard the hopeful _Tony?_ on the other end of the line, you knew he never really left.

"Will you- will you ever- forgive me ?" he chokes on the words, barely getting them out.

You cup his face, move the too long strands out of his eyes and let them slip through your fingers before you push them back. He follows the warmth of your palm like a sunflower.

"I already have."

***

The sixth time you dance, you've won the war; Thanos and his alias are gone, and Steve held your hand through it, as did every hero on the battlefield. 

The line of heroes stretching beyond horizon, standing united to protect the universe, to share your burden; it brings you to tears even as you laugh in relief because _finally_ , your worst nightmare is over. You look up at him and see all the emotions mirrored back at you. He pulls you up and doesn't care that you're both coated in blood, dust and sweat; he kisses you square on the mouth and it’s sloppy and desperate as you let him drink your emotions right off your lips, crying and gasping and laughing because you've never been happier to be alive.

"Honestly, that was kinda hot."

"Kinda ? What does a man gotta do to fully impress you, Rogers ?"

He laughs, leaning into the side of your head, and only when you feel his shoulder move do you realize you've been slow dancing all along. It's silly, really; like a barbie movie, and it's the part where you magically lift off and dance into the clouds.

"Alright. It was _really_ hot. And brave. And incredible."

" _Now_ we're talking."

You stand on tiptoes to kiss him again, but wince at a sharp pain right below your ribs. There's no need to look at him to know the look he's giving you.

"C'mon, you better get that looked at."

You smile and rest your head on his chest as he calls for Carol to give you both a lift.

"Aye, Captain."

***

The seventh time you dance, you're on the roof of the Avengers tower again. _We could use some air_ , he says, a nervous smile curling his lips as he leads you out by the hand. You come along because you can tell he’s got something on his mind he wants to share, and besides - you really could use some fresh air. 

The sky is clear and freckled with stars, a chilly breeze making you shiver. Maybe you should’ve put on warmer pjs. But when he takes you in his arms, you forget what cold feels like. Your song is playing softly, gently dispatched by the wind; you move to the stripped tunes that swirl around your embrace. He is still unusually tense.

“Tony ?”

You lift your head, noticing the dips on his jaw and the seismic hammering inside his chest reverberating in yours. You lift your arms to loop them around his neck, burying a hand in his hair, moving fingers from the root up. He smiles, knowing what you’re trying to do.

“Yes ?”

His smile melts into a serious, sincere expression. He’s looking you right in the eyes, his even bluer under the light of your arc reactor.

“Before I met you, I- I was lost. Everything was just… too much. And then you came.” His face splits into a smile so full of love you have difficulty resisting the urge to kiss him. Tears start welling up in his eyes, and you feel your eyes filling up as well. 

“You gave me somewhere to belong. You gave me a home, a family. You gave me a chance to become the man I wanna be and now I, ”

He gets down on one knee and pulls a ring out of a pocket, holding it up to you. At this point, your vision is so blurry you can barely make it out, and you nod, hand over your mouth to stop the sobs, before he’s even said it. A laugh bubbles out of him, then recedes into a smile oozing with tenderness.

“I wanna give you the only thing I can, the only one I have to offer: myself, until we’re old and wrinkly and ugly and have like 10 dogs and cats,” You burst into tearful giggles, but so does he. “Until we’re so old and weak we can’t even dance anymore, but we’d find a way because that’s us. We always find a way. Tony...”

You drop to your knees and cut him off at _will you m-_ , pouring your whole soul into a kiss, as sloppy and tearful and giggly as it is, it’s the kiss you’ve dreamed of your entire life.

“Yes,” you mutter between kisses, “yes- yes- a thousand times yes.”

You pull back, extending your shaking hand.

“Put it on, put it on.”

He does. You can’t even see the ring because you’re crying so hard. He catches you as you collapse into his arms.

The combined light of the moonlight and your makeshift heart reflects off the ring as you turn your hand this way and that, admiring it. It’s gorgeous. _It’s real, this is real_ , you keep telling yourself. You’re still wrapping your head around it.

“Oh my god, we’re engaged.”

“Yeah, we’re engaged.”

You look over at him, unable to keep a smile off your face.

“We’re getting married !”

A soft laugh. “We’re getting married !”

It’s the beginning of the rest of your lives.

***

Life tends to swerve and get turbulent, especially when you're a superhero. But some things are a constant, you learned.

In this lifelong slow dance, as time passes, your skins wither and leaves fall from trees only to grow back again. His eyes and smile stay the same. So does the way he lets your palm rest on his like you’d ever choose to rest it anywhere else.

There are times when you think life has taken him away from you, in the middle of a battlefield when his comms are dead, and your wedding ring burns with your pulse underneath, not knowing whether there’s any under his. 

There are times when you are the one toeing the line, when the world spins around his determined face as he speaks words that don’t reach your ears, clinging to you like he’s ready to fistfight death were he to decide to take you away from him. It’s almost like another dance, the one you’d dance as everything crumbles to dust and fire licks your skin and he is the last thing you see before you close your eyes.

But at the end of the day, when fire burns out and dust settles, you are still doing the same dance, looking into the same eyes and holding the same hand.

You did it 50 years ago, when the wedding lights were shining upon you. 

You've done it infinite times since then, in your bedroom and workshop, on rooftops and pavements, surrounded by trees and long stretches of sand and foaming waves of an ocean. 

You're doing it now, as you're celebrating your anniversary, dressed in your wedding suits which still miraculously fit, and there is only one explanation for the smile that instantly grows from your heart as the lines on his face arrange into a smile too: you are just as in love as you've been a lifetime ago.

And when you're only spirits wandering in the dark, you'll join hands and slow dance into another life.

**Author's Note:**

> this literally took me two months to finish uwu love my highly functioning brain but ya,,,,, find me on [tumblr](https://newtmsa.tumblr.com) or yell at me in the comments !!! or both !!!!! tell me ur thoughts !!!!!!


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